


Gravity

by patentpending



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders In Love, Deceit | Janus Sanders Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Polyamory, Protective Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Purple Prose, Sympathetic Deceit | Janus Sanders
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-06-13
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:53:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24690352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/patentpending/pseuds/patentpending
Summary: Janus circles them, even as they orbit each other like stars drifting into and out of the pull of gravity, close enough to feel, but not to touch.  Never to touch.or: Janus pines.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders/Deceit | Janus Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Deceit | Janus Sanders, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders/Deceit | Janus Sanders
Comments: 48
Kudos: 552





	Gravity

**Author's Note:**

> tws: minor injury and blood

The thing about Janus Sanders is that he’s loved them from afar for so long, he isn’t sure what to do when they’re close.

Maybe it’s his fault, in the end, for not bothering to notice how he feels about Virgil until he’s gone; for only getting close to Roman when he’s swathed in someone else’s skin.

But now, he’s here, squinting in the light of the light side’s realm, and where before Virgil and Roman were distant as the stars, now they’re just a whisper away. He can _see_ them so much better here, can quietly watch, comfortable in his own skin, and let his eyes fill in the fuzzy details that were once relegated to daydreams.

Roman has a dimple in the middle of his left cheek.

It’s not visible, most of the time, just when Roman turns that grin on him, conspiratorial, as if the world is a joke, and he wants nothing more than to hear them laugh along with him; when he flashes a smile at Janus over ink-stained script pages, eyes warm and sparkling.

Virgil snorts when he laughs.

It’s probably why he clamps a hand over his mouth as soon as a hint of a giggle escapes him, but Janus and Roman have their own ways of hearing it. Roman piles him with nicknames – Gerard _Gay_ , Black Veil _Broods_ , dark and stormy _knight_ – each more ridiculous than the last, until Virgil is laughing helplessly, unable to hide his mirth, dark eyes shining over the hand hiding his smile. Janus hisses sarcastic comments – witty and biting – under his breath, often at the other’s expense, and Virgil is trying to hide his laugh even as he scolds him.

Roman always mouths the words to himself when he reads. Virgil hates bluetooth headphones because he likes fiddling with the cord. Roman can never get his eyeliner quite even. Virgil can fall asleep anywhere.

Janus finds himself hoarding these snippets of knowledge like so many shining gems, letting them settle comfortably in his mind, coloring and clarifying the image he has of them.

It wasn’t any of those things – the dimple, the snort, the reading – that made him fall in love with the others. They’re just a few of the many forces that pull him closer and closer, so slowly and smoothly he didn’t realize he was in love until the weight of it was everywhere.

Janus circles them, even as they orbit each other like stars drifting into and out of the pull of gravity, close enough to feel but not to touch. Never to touch.

He could, maybe, reach out and close that final gap – lean forward when Virgil playfully flicks the brim of his hat, lay a gloved hand over Roman’s when he sits next to him, leave bouquets of yellow roses outside their doors. Let those three little words that have been worrying against the back of his lips for so long they’re smooth and shining finally fall.

But he doesn’t. But he won’t.

It’s easier, much easier to waver on the edges of each their orbits, falling into and out of the pull of gravity, thinking perhaps for a moment that someone will speak, before the words dry up once more.

Besides, Janus sees the way Virgil and Roman look at each other. He may be selfish, but that’s a line he isn’t willing to cross. They deserve each other, in the best way possible. The shining sun and the shimmering moon – Janus nothing but a spectator to their celestial dance.

And he’s fine with his role in the audience. Truly, he is.

It’s not like he could ever be anything else.

Roman’s eyes are shining when he tells Janus he’s in love with Virgil.

It’s another late night, one of many spent bickering over play scripts, half of them destined for Roman’s wastebasket. There’s ink smudged around Roman’s thumb and a constellation of freckles right below, where palm meets wrist. For a moment, Janus lets himself believe he’ll reach forward and kiss Roman’s fingertips, one after the other.

“Really,” he drawls instead, pushing his mismatched gaze away. “I’m shocked and appalled. Congratulations on being the first to know.”

Roman sputters, good-natured, nudging the serpentine side with his shoulder. “Hey now, _Snakes_ peare, I had to be sure! All good things take time, I’ll have you know.”

“Microwave popcorn.”

“Okay-”

“Watching the hand flex scene in Pride and Prejudice.”

“Listen-”

“Petting a dog.”

“You’ve made your point-”

“When Virgil does the nose scrunch thing.”

“A few good things take time!” Roman exclaims, throwing his hands up, but he’s laughing. “You can’t blame a side for being cautious. I wasn’t sure if you could even feel that way for two– too short. Of a time.” He clears his throat, tugging at the gold-embroidered cuff of his sleeve.

“You can’t,” Janus says, and his voice is soft, free of silk-smooth lies. “It’s love, no matter how long you keep it to yourself.”

Roman’s lips part, eyes going soft. “Careful, pretty little liar. I’ll think there’s a romantic hiding somewhere in there.”

Janus swallows hard, gloved hand curling into a fist, before he forces himself to relax, drenching his words in sarcasm.

“You got me,” he deadpans, swooning onto Roman’s shoulder, hand pressed to his forehead. “I yearn, I pine, I languish. Take my now, my sweet prince.”

Roman just laughs, grinning down at him, and there’s that dimple. “Yeah, yeah, yuck it up, Fernando Woo’d.” 

He doesn’t push Janus away, and Janus doesn’t move. They stare at each other for a long moment, just a breath away, and Janus can feel his prince’s gravity, always and forever drawing him in.

“I’m happy for you,” Janus says, softly. “You and Virgil. You deserve each other.”

The pull is broken as Roman turns away, flushed prettily, unable to stop his smile. “You think? I don’t know how he’ll react.”

“Roman.” Janus smiles, and it is only a little sad. “Only a fool would resist falling in love with you.”

Virgil has his face in his hands when Roman confesses to him.

Janus wouldn’t be there if he had any say in the matter, but Roman had turned those dark, pleading eyes on him. “Moral support,” he claimed, insisting it was important he stayed the whole time.

It wasn’t necessary. Through the gaps in his fingers, Virgil’s smile is just as bright as his blush.

“I love you two,” he says, and his eyes flicker to Janus for some reason.

Roman glows, darting a smile at Janus before he cups the emo’s face in his hands. “Give us a second, _snacc_ mamba.”

Janus sinks out before their lips touch. They’re happy. He tries to convince himself that’s all he could ask for.

They try to call for him, later. He doesn’t respond.

_(They talk about him, curled together in bed that night._

_“Does he not want us?” Virgil asks, chewing on his bottom lip. “He left before we could say anything.”_

_“I don’t know,” Roman sighs, toying with purple hair. “I asked him to stay the whole time, but I was kinda gambling on both of you.”_

_Virgil huffs, resting his forehead on Roman’s shoulder. “Maybe he just likes you. I wouldn’t blame him.”_

_“I could say the same about you, Gerard Gay,” Roman scolds, softly, dropping a kiss on Virgil’s forehead. “Besides, no one’s allowed to talk bad about my boyfriend without getting their ass kicked.”_

_“You’re going to kick my ass?” Virgil’s expression melts into something mischievous. “Hot.”)_

It’s harder, somehow, to stay away from them when they’re together. Maybe that shouldn’t be a surprise; greater mass means a greater pull of gravity, according to Logan.

They curl on the couch together, and Janus has to stop himself from coiling between them. They snark back and forth, and he bites his forked tongue. They _look_ at each other, eyes soft, and he never sees when those gazes are turned on him. 

He makes himself scarce, slithering into the shadows, sulking in his room, only going into the kitchen at odd hours.

It works well enough, even if his sleep schedule takes something of a hit.

He _also_ takes something of a hit – directly to the face after he trips in his sleep-deprived stupor and busts his lip open on the edge of the counter. 

Before he can even pull himself to his feet, wincing, Virgil is there, eyes dark and shoulders wound tight.

“Are you alright?”

“Peachy.”

Virgil’s hands are hot on his shoulders where he pulls Janus up, but Janus shies away, adjusting his cape and clearing his throat.

“You’re bleeding,” Roman says, and Janus nearly jumps before he sees him, leaning in the doorway with sleep-mussed hair and worried eyes.

“What are you two doing up?” Janus asks, touching the edge of his lip.

Virgil shrugs. “Had a feeling something was wrong.” 

“Clearly, everything is under control here,” Janus drawls. He winces when his lip twists the wrong way.

“Liar.” In an instant, Virgil’s expression darkens again; he takes a step forward, taking Janus’ chin in his hand and tilting his face towards the light to examine the wound. “You’re not allowed to get hurt on me.”

Janus holds himself perfectly still, coiled with tension. One gloved hand raised to wrap around Virgil’s wrist by instinct, though whether it’s to push him away or pull him closer he can’t tell. For a breathless second, the way Virgil’s thumb brushes against his mouth feels like the prelude to a kiss.

Virgil swallows.

“You’ll be fine,” he says, finally, with a step back.

“A miracle,” Janus drawls, and somehow his voice isn’t shaking. He still feels the way Virgil’s skin had pressed against his lips, like a physical ache. “I was afraid that little bitty cut would prove fatal. Truly, doctor, you’re a miracle worker.”

“He hasn’t even done anything,” Roman scoffs before his smile turns sly. “But I guess he could always kiss it better.”

Something like resentment flashes through Janus, and he bristles. “How clever of you, Roman, truly,” he hisses. “Not like he already has a boyfriend or anything.”

But Virgil doesn’t round on Roman, doesn’t have hurt flash across his face, doesn’t sputter and back away. He just shuffles his feet, tugs at the end of his hoodie strings.

“Well,” he says, and doesn’t quite look Janus in the eye. “I wouldn’t mind another.”

And Janus is sure he’s dreaming, because Roman sidles up to him, flashing a smile that’s almost shy, dimpling.

“Janus,” he says, and Janus finds each of his gloved hands taken up by one of the other sides.

Virgil snorts a soft, nervous laugh. “We’ve got something we want to tell you.”

In the end, gravity wins.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, friends! This fic is a result of a [Real Neat thing I'm doing on tumblr](https://impatentpending.tumblr.com/post/620315444493123584/blm-charity-commissions) that you should definitely check out.
> 
> reblog [Here](https://impatentpending.tumblr.com/post/620765984504020992/gravity) to make me happy!
> 
> Thank you for reading, smash that kudos button to give Janus a hug, and drop a comment to give me serotonin <3
> 
> and as always ROAST ME IF YOU SEE A TYPO, COWARDS


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